The world of light and the world of darkness
by Yui Miyamoto
Summary: This is a two-part fic about Akihito asking for his freedom of choice and Asami finally letting himself go.
1. Start Akihito – Passion

**fandom: Viewfinder**  
 **title: The world of light and the world of darkness.**  
 **pairing: Asami + Akihito**  
 **rating: pg-13**  
 **description – This is a two-part fic about Akihito asking for his freedom of choice and Asami finally letting himself go.**

 **Disclaimer – Viewfinder isn't mine.**

 **The world of light and the world of darkness.**  
 **By miyamoto yui**

 _  
Start / Akihito – Passion.  
_

"What time is it anyway?"

I talk to myself as if it's worth the effort.

In your own world, there are things that you cannot tell anyone, not even to yourself. It isn't denial, but an optimism that you can't distinguish if it is between what you want to believe versus what is there. Is it the same as not seeing the faults of others but blindly focusing on what they can do well?

I cannot answer this question. My answer only applies to me, after all.

Are there times that you have to be someone other than yourself? In order to grow, you have to do something other than what you are, but how about if that leads to someone that you don't recognize?

As I watch you there, I cannot help but wonder if I have done nothing wrong. You do not say anything and you would not ever blame me, but those insistent eyes tell me differently. Quite clearly.  
Without knowing, because you do not talk, I can read your body very well.

Or maybe it's out of my own guilt?

The things we take for granted come into full light, surfacing from between the shadows we ourselves make. Under the innocent red light, they came out so much more than I'd wanted them to.  
I become scared.

You have gotten thinner, as if the weight added to my own worries. Have you taken care of yourself? You can't even recognize it, but I can.

The pictures lie and tell the truth simultaneously.

You can smile at certain times, but you take pictures of those times and not others. So, what happens to the rest of the seconds of the day? Are they wrought with unhappiness and crying?  
Are they lies if not given any proof of their existence?

Months ago, I could separate my concepts so clearly. All I had to do was turn and the picture became wider. But now, all the film seems to melt together. The colors are runny and unrecognizable, just like an on-going painting: It only shows what I want it to.

It only reflects my feelings, not of what the scene has towards me.

I slam my hands at the sides of the sink. The steel makes such a loud clatter, I can almost taste its metallic surface.  
I can't seem to develop them correctly these days.

I do not even want to open the small plastic cylindrical cases. One wrong move and it'll all be over. I can't even remember the things I preciously wanted to put on film from before.

The sweat of my back clings onto my white tanktop.

Like the sound of heavy rain on stone, everything floods out without it being exposed under the red light.  
I can't dip my hands into the solution and water.

It'll feel like blood.

Without knowing, I am ruining everything before making anything definite.

"Why?! This is my life! I've been doing this all my life!" I scream as I grip on the sides of the sink in frustration.

The half-finished photos don't make sense in my head anymore. I'm developing with a throbbing headache, but one thing is so definitely clear: You're staring straight into me.

You're always looking at me.  
With nothing to say.

Damn your silence time and again!

Everyone knows who I am to you already. But I don't even know myself anymore. Is this the person you are 'in love' with?  
I do not know if it's the attraction, the images you've painted into my mind, or those moments of vulnerability that make me come back to you…

"I just want to see what you do with your 'life'."  
He finally speaks. He's only been here for two minutes but it feels like a whole week under humidity.

I turn with hot tears on my face. He leans on the wall, looking at me intently.

"Why are you making fun of me?"  
Why are you invading this space that is only mine? Even you…yes, even you shouldn't be here.  
Rape everything, but not my soul…

I won't give you that.  
Even pride lost to you. And I can't stand it anymore.

Why are you so obsessed with having 'everything' when you are losing the thing you are looking for?  
And I'm losing myself.

His phone's orange light keeps on blinking at me, silently screaming to be answered.

"I want to understand this semblance of normalcy."

It is then that I understand the underlying meaning of those frigid words. I am the only grip of reality.

I turn around. I cannot look at him as I ask, "Isn't there anything you really want in this world?"

I want him to answer this question, but when he does out of necessity and not reality, my eyes stare at his back with my wrath. But when he closes the door, I finally fall to my knees.

The clattering of the rain continues to sting my ears and I can't hear myself sob.

I feel my limply lips say, "Asami…"

 **Tsuzuku...**

10/4/2007 6:47:38 AM


	2. End Asami – Gravity

**fandom: Viewfinder**  
 **title: The world of light and the world of darkness.**  
 **pairing: Asami + Akihito**  
 **rating: pg-13**  
 **description – This is a two-part fic about Akihito asking for his freedom of choice and Asami finally letting himself go.**

 **Disclaimer – Viewfinder isn't mine.**

 _End / Asami – Gravity._

Wet hands are touching mine with their fragile, fiery fingertips. Inside my fingerless gloves, the maple leaves perfectly fit the span of my hands. The colors dance inside my eyes as the static drives my numbness mad. It feels like the first time I've used my nerves.

I close my eyes as the branches slowly shower my head with rainwater, anointing me with their purity and cursing me back into blankness.

As I stand in the middle of the cemented sidewalk, many people pass me by. Though I do nothing, they shove me anyways. Some people even make some rude, whispery comments. Everyone always seems to be so busy here in Tokyo (or at least make themselves look so), watching the clock to see that they are at the train station by the exact minute. It is almost sickening how much you become a slave to the longhand of a watch, knowing that none of the time in this city is consistent. Not even the cel phones. They're not managed by satellites.

Maybe that's why we rely on the trains. They're the only thing that have the same numbers everywhere. It's the only thing that doesn't change.

Everything else is inconsistent.

But, I still continue to proudly stand under the maple tree halfway between the block of the main street. I finally look up and the droplets fall onto my face, making me look as if I'd cried.  
Though I may feel that way, I cannot show it. My shadow cannot ever feel the water of my eyes. I admit that it is arrogance. This is my pride. It is what makes me unable to say the truth directly. It is what makes me respect others if they can respond back to it.

But never can I show a face other than confidence.  
It is against my principles. Without them, you are not a person. Don't you know that?

It is not whether or not you agree with others, the essence of your person is the reasoning behind your opinion. With effort and emotion, it becomes your belief.  
What is the point of living if you do not understand these basic things?

But what is one called when you understand logic but refuse emotion?

I crush the maple leaves and bits of wet fire make a trail behind my steps. I walk forward in between the tall rectangular buildings with their glass panels that you can't see through. Their windows can only look outside but you cannot look within.

It reminds me of a person's heart, just as cold as a frozen mirror.  
Your reflection wants to kiss itself into warmness, but Narcissus died because of his self-love. What more for a mere human?

And yet, as I pass by, I give a sideways glance to my dark figure with the straight lips and a long dark coat. Looking at myself, I betray the suspicions that I can be confident of things but not trust myself.  
So, I move forward.  
Quickly, forcefully.

A smile spreads onto my expressionless visage. I see the whites of my teeth.  
I am no better than a vampire, but even they have a purpose. They have a reason to stay, even if it's a simple one.

I pretend that I know mine.

They come in different forms. There are the men in suits who climb so high on the corporate ladder, they forgot how people labor with their hands and knees. There are the women who make comments on the train about how someone is dressed though they do not know how to hold a conversation to keep anything but their own clothing interesting. There are children who are so undisciplined that they do not know their parents won't protect them if they do something very harmful.  
At least, though, they know they still want to exist or at least instinct tells them so.

I pass by a stack of tvs in a window display and they show several hidden, bloody offices covered in white sheets, spread with black and white headlines. Each name of a top yakuza boss is said quickly, but not printed on the screen.

I slip into a narrow alleyway and the sun sleeps while I crunch my eyes in pain, holding my bleeding arm. I finally slip to the ground and breathe heavily.  
I feel the most relaxed at night.

It hides my eyes from all my sins that come out in the daylight.

I hear the sirens ringing around me, but I can no longer move. I am just waiting to be captured. It is finally the end.

In order to be free, it meant to give up everything I knew. I chuckle to myself at how ironic everything in life turns out.

 _"I do not know what you will do but do not ever show your face to me again or I will really kill you."  
With this last order, my men dispersed. Freedom to live their lives as they wanted, but knowing they'd not ever be able to have a human life._

 _Some wanted to stay but they all left. I gave them everything I had._  
 _I left my own apartment (the latest one because I do not have a home) with nothing but this coat that stupid boy gave me one Christmas._  
 _I went to visit him just before I came here and I smiled at him._

 _Then, I left without touching him or else he'd smell the blood._

 _I didn't want to taint him any longer._

 _The light and dark shouldn't ever meet though they exist for each other's sake._

So, I am just waiting now and it will all be over.

 _"Isn't there anything you really want in this world?" He lifted up his head but didn't look at me. He leaned his hands on the sink in anger and sighed._

 _"I've forgotten everything. Nothing makes me remotely mad or happy or sad." I looked to the wooden floor. "You're lucky to get yourself worked over everything. It amuses me when it includes me."_

 _I turn around and leave without another word. I can feel his eyes burning onto my back. I know what he is asking. I know what I want._  
 _We cannot say anything of that nature, it betrays our characters._

 _The cruelest answer to anything in this world is not being given one when you want it the most._

Now, I take out my phone and text him: "I give you back to the world you were born in, Akihito."  
In this, I finally admit the defeat my arrogance won't let my soul take.

Still, despite my pride, I tightly hold onto that seemingly worthless white plastic vessel that's guided me all this time.

At that moment, when I close my eyes with the rain covering me, I hear footsteps at one end of the alleyway. I am prepared to leave because I can feel my mind drifting.

That angry voice holds out his hand towards me and pushes his forehead onto my shoulder, whispering, "I don't want it anymore."  
I push him away. "GO."

He pulls me up and his eyes honestly show their grief. The red and the tears…

I shake my head and always wish for that innocence that could not die within him, no matter how this world treated him. I want him to stay this way.

But I also wanted him near me.

I made the offer and he made a choice: No matter what I did, he could no longer go away.

As we run away to anywhere but the familiar, quietly, without words, we look forward and know what the other is thinking:

"If you leave me now,  
I don't know where to live."

Breathing heavily behind his motorcycle, I hold onto him closely. In between happiness and agony, I plead to my soul:

 **"What have I done?"**

 **Owari.**

 **Author's note:**

I wrote the first part many months ago and my heart kept on telling me, "You have to write. It has to be NOW." But who? I did not know. I first thought of Seishirou from Tokyo Babylon, and then Kazahaya from Gouhou Drug. But in the end, it was Asami I clearly saw in my image, the person I could understand the most at this particular moment.  
It is a strange thing because years ago, I would not even touch this manga. And now, it has made its way into becoming one of my great loves to write.

I hope you enjoyed it.

I love you and thank you for always supporting me.

Sincerely,  
Yui

PS. My Aki, thank you for breaking my heart, that I learned to write again.

10/4/2007 7:14:35 AM


End file.
